


A Pilot's Journal

by QueenPaige (PatchworkRoyalty)



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: But really I don't know where I'm headed with this so..., Gen, Martin Crieff POV, Martin's Journal, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, POV First Person, Possible very lightly implied Skipthur way later in this story, Waaaaaayyy later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatchworkRoyalty/pseuds/QueenPaige
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MJN Air's one and only Captain Martin Crieff writes about his experiences and adventures with the company in his journal as a kind of record for himself.<br/>(I am seriously terrible at descriptions. Basically it's Martin's opinions and thoughts, things he would really only write in his journal)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Zero Hour

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago and since I don't know when I'm going to finish it or how long it'll go on I'm posting the chapters I have now and add more as time goes on. Maybe you guys can motivate me to write more?  
> That's a warning everyone, if you don't like getting into stories that hardly ever update then you should probably turn back now, I'm sorry to lose you!
> 
> Not really beta-ed or brit-picked, just edited a hundred times by yours truly.

Hello to nobody, I hope, because this journal is just for me. I’ve just bought this to keep a record of anything interesting that happens in my life and, as it happens, tomorrow I have an interview with a company called ‘MJN Air’ so maybe that will be interesting enough to write about. Wish me luck.

* * *

 

I’ve just had my interview and, well, I’m just going to write it out, maybe that will help me make sense of exactly what happened.

I took a cab from my house instead of trying to drive my van; I didn’t want to deal with whatever problem the blasted contraption was going to try throwing at me today. Once I was let out of the cab at Fitton airfield I made sure every hair was in place and my clothes were without a single wrinkle. I really wanted to make a good impression, you know, look very professional.

My first pilot’s job fell through and since then I’ve been looking for another. Enduring weeks and weeks of being turned down hasn’t exactly left me confident about this interview but… I have to keep trying. All I’ve ever wanted to be is a pilot, dedicated my entire life to becoming one, so I’m never going to give up even if it ends up leaving me flat broke and horribly alone.

That’s what I was thinking about as I walked into the main building and it really didn’t help ANYTHING AT ALL so I quickly switched to practicing a winning smile and thinking of reasons I would be a good asset to an airline company.

I quickly made it through security, it was only a metal detector after all, and easily found my way to the building where I was to meet my fate, whatever it would be.

An excellent sense of direction, there’s something I have on my side.

As easy as it was to find my way there, the walk took a lifetime, or at least that’s how it felt. This was most likely due to nerves causing my legs to tense up more with every step, no matter how many times I said ‘For gods sake pull yourself together’ in my head and, for good measure, out loud.

Making it to the door I knew it wouldn’t do to look as nervous as I did so I took a calming breath and put on my best confident smile. Reaching for the doorknob I suddenly found myself being knocked to the ground.

There was just enough time for me to sarcastically think _‘Perfect’_ before hitting the asphalt and smacking my head rather hard.

There was an almost blissful second when my vision went black before I became painfully aware of, well, the pain.

Laying there and staring at the sky for a while, I thought I deserved a moment just to pity myself for my numerous misfortunes so I took it. The moment ended when I found myself being grabbed by the hands and violently pulled to my feet, causing me to feel slightly dizzy and adding the worry about passing out on the spot to my to my list of misfortunes. Let me just say, because unfortunately I have experience in this, falling over is one thing but passing out at an interview will pretty much write you off for the job before you even have a chance.

Once I was on my feet again and the upright position processed in my head, I realized I was face to face with a man about my age, he had dark brown hair with a slight curl and brown eyes. Also, he _just might_ have been tall enough that I actually had to look up slightly to be face to face with him. But that really isn’t important, especially because then he started talking.

“Wow, are you okay? That looked like it hurt but if it’s any help you looked really cool when you were falling, you had this smile like you were doing the falling over bit on purpose. Like one of those action movie guys who jump off a building and end up landing on the top of a flying car or something. Except that didn’t happen for you, you just sort of fell and started making a little whimpering noise.”

And I wasn’t sure if he would stop.

“Even though you looked cool I’m still really sorry about knocking you over. I don’t normally do that but you were on the other side of the door I was opening and when I open doors I don’t ever really think ‘oh, I should be careful there might be someone on the other side’ but now that this happened maybe I should try to think that so it won’t happen again.”

Ever.

“Oh, who are you by the way? Oh wait, wait, I’ve got it! This could be a guessing game! I don’t normally get to play guess who’s at the door because we don’t get that many guests here and if we do I end up knowing who there are already because they’re clients and mum says you have to know their names because people are upset when you don’t know who they are—Oh no. Are you upset because I don’t know who you are? Oh please don’t be, I’m sure I can figure it out if you’ll just hold on a tick… um… um… um…”

I was _thankfully_ able to slip in a few words edgewise while he was thinking “I’m here for an interview with MJN Air” and by this point I was praying that the man standing in front of me was not the person I was to meet for said interview because then I might have just turned around and left that very second. I was seriously considering this when an older woman stepped through the door behind the man who was still playing ‘Guess who’s at the door’.

The woman cut him off by muttering ‘crowed bread’—or at least that’s what it sounded like— in his ear, causing the man to let out a little ‘Oh!’ and quickly leave with a wave. Which was the moment I realized we had been holding hands the entire time. Geez….

Dazed and utterly confused by this point it was lucky this woman was quick with introductions.

“Hello, I am owner and CEO of MJN Air, Carolyn Knapp-Shappey. You must be Damian.”

Damian?

“A-Actually, my name is Martin. Martin Crieff. I’m here for an interview?”

Ms. Knapp-Shappey put on a smile that made an attempt at friendliness but really just told me she didn’t like being corrected. In my defense it wouldn’t have been any good for her to go on thinking I was Damian, especially if I was hired. So there.

“Of course. Well then, Martin, step into my office and then we can get started.”

By this point I didn’t have much of the after affects of hitting my head but I still felt very nervous, walking into the office reminded me of the school principal’s office… Not that I was there often or anything, I was a VERY good student. Only ever tardy when kids threw my bag over a fence into someone’s yard and I had to go get it. Or that time they dropped it down a pothole in the road. I left that one where it was, I don’t think I would have wanted it after that anyway.

Back to the interview.

The office was very much like any other, nothing special really. Same mostly bare walls, same houseplant in the corner, same hardly furnished wooden desk, same totally intimidating employer and even the same scared for his career pilot. Exactly as I had encountered many times before but maybe this time the end result would be different.

“So” she flipped through the copy of my CV on her desk “You’re applying to be first officer, hm?”

For a second I wasn’t sure of the answer myself. That’s when I realized I _really_ needed to get my act together. “Yes, yes I am” I replied, situating myself in my seat in a way that made me look the perfect balance of relaxed and confident, just like the movies. I could be one of those movies guys that man was talking about. Honestly I don’t know if it worked but I gave it a pretty good try nonetheless. “I think you will find I am perfectly qualified for the position and—“

“You failed your CPL four times?”

Damn. Damn damn damn. Why does that ALWAYS have the first thing they notice, the first thing they ask me about? Couldn’t they notice ‘Hey, this guy had really exceptional grades all through university, we should definitely overlook two or three of his CPL failures. Everyone makes mistakes after all’? No, apparently not.

“Yes, I did. But I really am a good pilot, I can handle any situation and I know everything there is to know about planes. I assure you I am perfectly suited to do this job.” I said this with all the honesty it deserved, I know that I have what it takes to be a great pilot. I know every manual and every flight procedure by heart, ask me anything about planes and how to fly them and I could tell you. I have that going for me and I always try to use it to my advantage.

But despite my efforts, she didn’t look the slightest bit convinced. “Normally I would have written you off from the start due to your obvious incompetence but I thought I might as well give you a chance, I haven’t gotten many applications recently. Just letting you to know how lucky you are to even be here.”

I didn’t _feel_ incredibly lucky, I felt like I was losing a battle. “Right, thank you. I really appreciate it”

“That said, it was nice to meet you, Martin, I’ll think about it and let you know” she then closed my CV and slid it to the side, a gesture I’d come to recognize as something of employer sign language for ‘Not happening, better keep trying’

What I said next was out of desperation (or, more likely, because I had lost one too many brain cells when I hit my head) “I’ll work for half of what you paid your last first officer”

Carolyn Knapp-Shappey froze with her hand still on my CV, and then she got a funny little look in her eyes. “Would you work for a third?”

‘Oh god, what have I done.’ Was the only thought in my head and still unable to find the mental capacity to fix this particular situation I was only able to put up a weak argument “No no no, I’m sorry, but I _really_ can’t work for so little. The least I’ll do is half.”

“Oh, that’s a shame… I don’t think it’s going to work out” the faint smirk on her face becoming more and more obvious by the second “Unless… you would work for, say, a fourth?”

Then there was a long silence where she looked at me and I adopted the look of freshly caught fish. Mouth agape and squirming. (Don’t judge me, I’m just trying to make this as accurate as I can) My desire to be a pilot and my need for a decent salary were having a battle.

Being a pilot won. It always does… the bastard.

Using my best authoritative tone I gave her the best offer I could “A third, that’s the lowest I can go” And hoped I could crawl out of her ludicrous offer of only a fourth pay and back up to a reasonable amount.

“What a pity. Well it was good of you to stop by. Good day, Mr. Crieff, I’ll keep in touch!” She waved me goodbye with a shark-like smile but I didn’t move for a long time, not until finally I gave in to the only airline that would give me a chance.

“Fine! I’ll do it for a fourth!” I’m ashamed about how easily I was manipulated into this agreement but was better than nothing, I would be a pilot and I would still get paid even if it wasn’t as much as I’d hope for. There’s always pay raises when I’ve proved my worth.

“Wonderful! Congratulations, Martin Crieff, you are officially MJN’s new first officer!” I’ll have it noted she said all this with a triumphant smirk “Your application says you can start within the week?”

My mind was still reeling from the decision I had just made, in case you were wondering about my mental state at this point. I always thought getting to be a pilot would suddenly make me feel as free as if I was already flying but no, that definitely wasn’t what happened, I felt more like a boulder... or something else completely stationary and immovable.

“Yes, yes I’ll be able to work within the week.”

“Great, not that your answer mattered either way. We have a job this weekend which we won’t be able to do without a first officer, our client is expecting two pilots, so as our brand new second pilot I expect you to be there.”

“O-Okay, I’ll be there. When will I be getting the schedule?”

“Oh don’t worry about that you impatient little man, everything will be sorted out. I’ll make sure you get the schedule and whatever else you need. Now, get out of my office”

Impatient? Little man?? I was really starting to realize I was getting more than I bargained for… In actuality I got less than I bargained for, salary wise, but that’s just my luck isn’t it. “Right, okay, keep me informed”

“I just said I would. Now shoo.”

So I shooed. Barely making it to the door when I was called back

“Martin?”

Turning around, I considered making a smart comment about her indecisiveness on where I should be at the moment but thought that might not be the best idea given the circumstances “Yes?”

“How little would you take to be Captain?”

Captain. CAPTAIN. Oh god only knew how badly I wanted to be CAPTAIN. _Captain Martin Crieff_ , it sounded absolutely _perfect_ in my head.

“C-Captain?”

“That is what I said. Why don’t you take a seat?”

I ended up taking a seat on the floor where I stood. Or should I say I fell over? …No, I definitely like ‘sitting’ a lot better, not that it matters because I stood up quickly and took an actual seat. Really smoothly done, if I’m kidding myself.

“Well seeing as you are in need a captain and I am perfectly qualified for the job. I will take full pay.” Oh yes, I was in charge of this situation… Or so I thought.

Carolyn gave me a look that was successfully intimidating. “I have a Captain, obviously, I have been running this charter airline for over 6 years. I am simply offering to make you captain, for the right price, because… you are so professional!”

I don’t know how I fell for that either, I’m not _so_ oblivious that I’d buy into false praise like that.

What I had done was I had made the biggest mistake of the bargaining world: I had let her know just how badly I wanted what she was offering. I was at her mercy.

“Alright, Mr. Crieff, let’s get back on track here. I will give you your first job as captain, if you give me the right offer.”

“Well, H-How about I take a fourth of a Captain’s salary, just the same as the first officer. That’s more than fair.”

“And I’m being much more than fair giving you the chance to be captain when the one I have now is doing a perfectly good job. Now I have an idea of how little you’ll take but let’s see if I’m right”

Yeah, she pretty much knew I’d do anything to be captain but I was going fight for as much as I could “A fourth?” her look was my answer, “An eighth? …A sixteenth?” Oh dear god “An… eighteenth?” No reaction. So I just sat silently while she looked me over. I dreaded what would come next.

“I will generously make you a Captain. Your second job as a pilot will be a captain. And I’m going to make you an offer of nothing. You get to be captain and I don’t pay you”

NOTHING. She was in all seriousness offering to pay me NOTHING. That isn’t a JOB, that’s VOLUNTEERING.

With everything that happened up to this point and then with this shocking development, I was just mentally exhausted. The place where I had hit my head was starting to hurt again, as well as where I had strained my shoulder while at a particularly difficult moving job (They were moving everything out of their flat)

It was actually my man with a van job that helped me make the final decision, I thought about how if I wasn’t a pilot then all I would have to go back to was that. It reminded me of my dad who never believed I would amount to anything by going to flight school, who thought I was wasting my time and money trying to become a pilot, who wanted me to just give it all up to be an _electrician_. Well this would show him, wherever he was, because I was about to become captain.

“I’ll do it.”

* * *

 

And, as they say, the rest is history. I’m the captain of MJN Air and my first job is this Saturday. I’ve got my dream job and the salary from my nightmares. I really don’t know what I’m going to do about money, I’m just going to try to get by on what I have, what I can get from moving jobs between flights and hope there are pay raises in my near future.

I just realized, I never found out who that strange man was… I guess I don’t need to worry about that now.


	2. First Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin's entry about his first flight with MJN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this you made it through the first chapter and hopefully liked it. Yaaay!  
> I apologize in advance for any jerkiness on Martin's part.
> 
> [04/01/2013] This is all I have so far, two chapters! Chapter three has been in progress for a while but maybe you guys can motivate me to finish it up?

I ended up staying up much too late last night. This afternoon I have my first flight with MJN Air as their new Captain and I was so excited about it I couldn’t really sleep. I tried, I really did but honestly. _CAPTAIN._

It’s around 7:00 as I write this, I decided I might as well get up and make sure I’m completely prepared, even if I’ve had my flight bag packed since I getting home from my interview and been checking on my uniform every day to make sure it’s in perfect condition.

I’ll write more when I get to the hotel. Wish me luck.

* * *

 

If I was going sum my day up in three words I’d have to choose: STRESSFUL, INSANE, and EXHAUSTING. What have I gotten myself into?? I don’t even know what to say, that was like nothing I have ever experienced, read about, or even heard about from a friend of a friend’s brother. Have any of these people ever read a manual? I feel as though I’m employed at the only improvisation airline.

Let’s just start from the beginning, shall we?

As I mentioned before, I woke up rather early even though pick-up wasn’t until 13:30 for a flight at 15:00. My last job hadn’t had pick-ups and I ended up having to spend quite a bit on petrol or cab fares if my van was being temperamental, this was going to be a nice change.

Morning passed as normal: Toast and coffee, a shower, a bit of tidying up. I didn’t put on my uniform until right before leaving because with my luck I knew I was going to trip and scuff up the knees or spill something on it, but nothing really bad happened throughout the morning and I was starting to feel like today was going to be perfectly fine (I am a fool for even thinking that. A right idiot.) It was, right up until the pick-up.

I was the picture of a perfect captain, if I do say so myself. My uniform was pressed to perfection and lint-free, my shoes were freshly polished, and my hat was on at the just the right angle. I was waiting outside the lodge house early, just to make it that much easier for us to leave as soon as the cab showed up. Which it did, about 15 minutes late.

The taxi didn’t splash any mud on me as it screeched up to the curb. No, that’s not relevant but I’m going to try to find every good/lucky thing that happened to me during this day, no matter how small. Don’t worry, there aren’t many of them.

I loaded my bag into the trunk and opened the back door to find it full of people, surprising when I was under the impression I was going to be in my own cab. I mean not much had really been said about it (‘Pick-up is at 1:30’) but isn’t that’s how it goes at most airlines? I wouldn’t know, they don’t teach that in flight school.

My new boss, the first officer, and the strange man (The one who kindly introduced me to the door) all stared silently over as I stood with my hand still on the door handle. A ‘Get in the car’ glare was the only order I was given so I quickly shut the door, got into the front seat, and we were on our way.

Carolyn must have been in a terrible mood because she used the entire cab ride to complain. Mostly about me, don’t worry about trying to look surprised.

“Are you even sure you can be a pilot with such terrible directional skills? With that address you gave we spent forever looking that little shack on the entire campus, only to find out it was only _near_ the university” That could hardly be my fault. I gave her the address, which clearly said ‘Near the agricultural university’ on it, if anything it was the cabby that was at fault.

“Now we’re going to have to rush through the walk around and all the other fiddly things that need to be done before takeoff” It was only 13:45, we had almost an hour and a half. Granted, that isn’t an _ideal_ amount of time to file the flight plan, do the walk around, and complete pre-flight checks but it would be just enough.

“And honestly, Martin, I don’t know what kind of shampoo you’ve used or what cologne you’ve put on but it’s stinking up the cab. None of us are impressed and I hope you weren’t planning on wooing any stewardesses with that stench because you are going to be disappointed for multiple reasons” Okay, well, that last one was my fault. Don’t get me wrong, I hadn’t a thought in my head about a stewardess, but it was the shampoo. The stuff I buy is super concentrated so you don’t have to use as much and it lasts longer (more cost effective that way) but because it’s concentrated it has a very strong scent, which isn’t unpleasant. It smells like oranges, well, more like the orange-scented cleaning liquid you use on tables and counters. This morning I accidentally used a little too much and now this little slip up was bringing me grief.

Lucky moment: I wasn’t trapped in the cab with this verbal assault for _too_ long, my lodgings aren’t that far from the airfield (Just one of the reasons I chose Park Side Terrace)

Once we arrived at our destination everything went by very quickly and I didn’t really get the chance to think about what was going on. I was rushed out of the cab, through security, across the runway, into the hanger, and onto the plane.

The Plane. I’m just going to take a moment to mention when I saw that plane I thought she was just about the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. A real-life-not-flight-simulator Lockheed McDonald 3-12, quite a bit worse for wear but that didn’t take away from any her magnificence, I wasn’t even aware there were any of this model still flying and the thought that I would be captain of such a rare beauty made me a little bit giddy to tell you the truth.

Back to reality. Things only slowed down once I got into the flight deck, once I was alone in the flight deck I should say. With all the rushing about I didn’t notice where the first officer had gotten off to. The first officer who, I realized just then, I didn’t know by name. Come to think of it, I could’ve spent the cab ride getting acquainted with the other passengers but instead I had to endure a barrage of baseless insults.

I was only left alone to look over the plane’s controls for a short while before the elusive first officer walked into the flight deck. I didn’t realize this before, because he was sitting down, but he was rather tall. Fine, everyone is tall compared to me but I think he must have been _at least_ 6’, a nice normal height. He might have been somewhere in his late 40’s, and had this strong and in control air about him. He looked exactly like what you’d imagine a captain to be, which made me feel a little insignificant but I quickly reminded myself that _I_ was the captain even when Ms. Knapp-Shappey had this frankly impressive man under her employment. Nice to know I was in charge.

I think I may have got a bit of a swelled head at that thought because when he walked past me without a word to sit in his chair I stood to my full height and used my best authoritative tone (which hadn’t done me any good so far)

“Excuse me, have some respect for your senior officer!”

And it actually worked rather well. After a short pause he got up from his chair and stood at attention, nodding his head to me “My sincerest apologies, I did not mean to offend” He even sounded like a proper captain, his voice all calm and smooth as syrup. Damn. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Crieff, I’m sure we’ll get along smashingly” Confident smile. It’s going to be hard to sit next to this seemingly flawless man at every flight. And I still didn’t know his name, I had this sinking feeling that he thought I already knew so I was going to have to play this off and hope I could figure it out before an awkward situation arose.

Luckily we didn’t talk much after that, not to say I wouldn’t have liked to talk but it was easier to avoid giving away the fact of not knowing his name if I stayed silent. So the thirty minute silence where we went about our business was fine, but what it was broken by was not fine at all.

“Captain, you’ve filed the flight plan, haven’t you?”

Filing the flight plan? That was the job of a first officer! Though now it was apparently the job of the first officer to inform me this plane was run backwards. The captain writes up the flight plan and the first officer makes sure it’s been filed.

Okay, quick note, there’s actually supposed to be a person who’s sole job is to write up and file flight plans but when I got all the information about MJN it said I had to write it and the first officer filed it. Lucky I’m so good with calculations.

Anyway, that’s how it goes and I decided to tell him that.

“Pardon?”

More or less.

“I was inquiring on whether or not the flight plan had been filed. Though I am sure you are in complete control and have taken the initiative to deal with it, seeing as you have not asked me to.”

Right. I would have had to give him the flight plan for him to have done anything with it. How could I have forgotten? This was not going well so far but he seemed to think I was on top of the situation so I had to play it off, just like the name thing. I thought if I could pull all this off I should consider being an actor instead of a pilot. (That would never happen, by the way, I’ll leave that for some other Martin)

I think I did fairly well under the circumstances. “Yes of course. I know that it’s part of your job but I thought I would do it just this once.” Then I carefully took the folder out of my bag, successfully concealing it in my jacket before standing up and leaving the flight deck, with a nonchalant “Be right back”, to run to the tower.

Lucky moment: I didn’t trip on my way there.

It was about forty-five minutes until we were due to take off, according to the plan I had written, and I hoped I was going to have enough time. Normally you have to have your plan in _at least_ an hour before take off but I’ve heard of late filing still being accepted, it really depends on what air traffic is like for the day or how tight the airfield is on rules. I love rules, they make things run so much more smoothly and efficiently, but I was really hoping I could get an exception this one time.

No such luck. Ever.

I negotiated, pleaded, begged, and in the end even tried a little bribery but no. By the time I made it to the filing office it was thirty minutes until we had originally planned to leave and they weren’t going to let us take off then, which means we had a thirty minute delay.

All I could think about was the complaints I was going to get from my boss and then I remembered the client. I was going to make the client late.

Once I got back to the plane and informed everyone there was going to be a delay I got the reaction I expected, only worse. Carolyn assaulted me with more insults for a while then dragged my first officer into the galley to yell at him as well. I couldn’t hear what was said but I hoped she wasn’t being too hard on him. I probably should have done something about it but it was _technically_ his fault as well as mine and I didn’t fancy getting yelled at even more.

The client showed up a little while later and I offered to try and smooth things over and explain the situation but Ms. Knapp-Shappey said I’d done enough. No, not in the ‘Oh, don’t worry about it, just relax you’ve already done a lot today’ way, more like the ‘You’ve already ruined things enough just go sit in the corner and be quiet’. ‘Obviously’ you might say, but I just wanted to clarify because there is a really big difference.

So that was dealt with and I don’t think the client was _too_ upset. That is to say I didn’t hear any yelling from the passenger cabin. I didn’t actually see him because I was sitting quietly not messing anything up, as you remember.

Once we got on our way I was hoping there weren’t going to be anymore disasters because a disaster in the air could cost us all our lives and I didn’t want that on my CV next to ‘Failed CPL four times’

Why do I always have such depressing thoughts?

I’m happy to report there were absolutely no problems with the plane and we didn’t die. Nope, the plane was perfectly fine but I’m not so sure about the crew.

Let’s start with the steward.

I’m sure you remember the one I refer to as ‘The strange man’. Well I actually know his name now. Arthur Shappey is my Boss’ son and he works as the steward. Now I understood why Carolyn said that bit about being disappointed with the stewardesses, I’m sure she thought that was very amusing.

Throughout the entire flight Arthur was just as excitable and in your face as when I first met him. These characteristics caused him to spill a good amount of coffee on my leg and shoes when bringing us our drinks. This was mildly annoying compared to everything else about him. Honestly, he spent half an hour apologizing to me when he could have been, oh I don’t know, getting something to clean it up with. The man is an idiot. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I have to deal with this every flight, I’ll have to go make the coffee myself. Or maybe get the first officer to do it. (Yeah right)

Lucky Moment: The coffee was cold. Note that this wouldn’t have been lucky if I’d actually gotten to drink the coffee.

Oh yeah, and while we’re on the topic of the first officer I’d like to mention he doesn’t deserve all that praise I was giving him earlier and I’m really glad I didn’t say any of that stuff out loud (I only wrote it down in here for the sake of record accuracy) because that man is a smarmy egotistical braggart.

Douglas Richardson is his name and he _purposefully_ didn’t let me in on this little fact, apparently it was a part in some kind of stupid game. I’ll tell you how I know his full name and all that in a bit, have to keep things in relative order.

I found out his name a little while after we got into air as he was called into galley by Arthur, something along the lines of ‘Douglas, mum wants you in the galley’, and even though it was only his first name that was better than nothing. Captains are allowed to call their junior officers by first name if they want to, after all.

It really might have been better if I never found out his name because as soon as he knew I knew he dropped the Mr. Nice Guy act. No more sugar coating. This man really actually hated me I think.

To make an excruciatingly long story short, Douglas Richardson spent the entire flight to Beijing making my life hell. Ignoring direct orders and slipping subtle insults in whenever the chance arose, they weren’t so subtle I didn’t notice but just subtle enough that if I tried to say anything about it it would be easy enough for him to deny the entire thing. He was the master of snide comments and there was nothing I could do. Nothing I _can_ do.

I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do.

It turns out the reason he hated me so much was because he was in line to be captain until I came along. I could have guessed at this but I would probably have never known the fact for sure if I hadn’t been given such a _lovely_ opportunity to spend a quite a bit of time with my favorite steward.

Yep, this next bit is the icing on the cake really. After everything that happened I am forced to share a room with Arthur Shappey.

Okay, I really should have realized earlier what kind of airline this was; a cheap, corner-cutting sneaky little bugger of a company that I want no part of. The CEO convinced me to be a captain for FREE for god’s sake.

It wasn’t until we landed (probably because I would have crashed the plane) that I was informed we had to ‘cut down on costs’ so it was already decided I would be sharing a hotel room with Arthur and nothing I said would make any difference. They didn’t say that last bit but everything I tried to say didn’t make any difference.

The worst thing is really that I am completely worn out and in a terrible mood, and at the time we were checking in I was pretty sure if I had to deal with someone who apparently needs to have constant conversation I was going to break his neck. He’s asleep now and I didn’t so I feel it’s safe to say the steward will live another day. Though he did talk at me about quite a bit of everything, I guess he could tell I was one edge because he stayed at a quieter tone and sometimes (but not always) he even had informative things to say. Such as what the first officer’s name is and about the little mind game that was being played on me.

* * *

 

All in all I should just be glad I’ve survived the day, that I’m lying in the hotel room and I can try to relax. Try to find things to be thankful for. Even if it seems almost impossible right now. And it does feel _pretty_ impossible.

Oh, here’s one: At least I don’t have to share a bed. That’s my last lucky moment of the day I guess.

Goodnight. Or just ‘Night’, I don’t think I can label anything as ‘Good’ today.

P.S It’s morning now. Once I finished writing last night I passed out immediately and I actually slept very soundly, the bed here is much more comfortable than mine. (Which is depressing as this isn’t that nice of a hotel.) A refreshing night’s rest was just what I needed and hopefully that will be enough to get me through the return flight.

There was one thing that was not so calming about my rest. That would be the fact that I just woke up to find Arthur standing over me with an open marker, and a restrained look on his face. I’m not really sure what to make of it, except that it scared the HELL out of me and I tried to get away under my blanket as quickly as possible. I really hope my new boss didn’t just room me with her son who has a history of writing utensil murders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there's need for a little explanation for that 'P.S.': My friend has been writing about the same exact days and events but from Arthur's point of view, so if you had read the her version of the first chapter then it would make perfect sense.  
> If you guys are interested in her Arthur POV chapters then drop me a comment and I'll try and convince her ;P  
> Either way drop me a comment, I'd love to hear from you!

**Author's Note:**

> Tada! I've only been writing for about a year so if you have a critique/comment about my writing style, how I've done with the characters, my grammar/punctuation, etc., I'm super willing to hear it.  
> So drop a comment if you'd like, I'd love to hear from you!


End file.
